


oh, woe is me, woe is me

by young_monster



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: "forbidden" love, AU where HU wasn't a major hit, Angst, Depression, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Suicide, this ain't gonna be a happy fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:17:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/young_monster/pseuds/young_monster
Summary: Jordon Terrell wanted so much more from his life, but not everyone gets what they want.





	1. Gotta Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> So this is going to be a super sad four-part series, based on four of HU's songs. It won't have a happy ending, so you've been warned. This is an idea I've had pretty much since HU released Gotta Let Go, which if you haven't listened to yet, is a pretty damn good song.  
> As far as updates go, I have no idea when they'll go up, considering I'm leaving town soon and might not have wifi. However, I am out of school for the summer, so writing time is not going to be sparse. So we'll see, I guess is what I'm trying to say.  
> *tags are going to be updated as the chapters are posted, I just don't want to give everything away right now*

I had dreaded cleaning out my mom’s house for a long time. Not only because she had just died and I felt it was too early, but also because I knew I would find things that were better left buried in the past. But it has to be done, and today is the day. 

I had cleared out most of the house already; all that was left was the basement, where most of our “family heirlooms” were stored. It was mostly just old furniture that had been in our family for a few generations, and no one wanted to get rid of it. I wouldn’t break that chain now, so off into the moving van it went. 

And then I stumble upon a box of photos, labeled with my name. And of course, I have to go through them. Big mistake. 

The first set of photos were of me, as a kid, with my big brother. He was such a cheerful kid, when we were growing up. He would always smile, and never threw a tantrum. I still can’t believe the person he became. There were a few pictures of us at home, sharing the chair at the desk that had our family computer, playing various terrible childrens’ games. There were a few photos of us at the playground near our second house, and even a few of us playing board games, back when we had “family nights”. 

Back when we had a family. 

There was one photo all folded up, tucked underneath the stack. I carefully unfolded it, and stared. It was of me and George, back when we were kids. Like, maybe six or seven years old. We were covered in mud, standing in the front yard with my brother who was holding the yard hose. George was laughing as he used me as a shield to protect himself from my brother relentlessly spraying us. It’s weird seeing George without bags under his eyes. 

The next set of photos was when my brother and I were a little older, getting ready for our first day of school. I was probably around ten, and still doe-eyed as fuck. I was so happy then. I was  _ always  _ happy then. My stability back then surprises me now. It’s hard to believe I’m the same person as the chubby-cheeked little shit in the photo. I wonder what he would say if he knew me now.

Next set photos were of me in my teen years, specifically one of the few times my mother managed to snag a picture of me and my friends. We were all hanging around the living room, spread out among the couch and spilling onto the floor, all sharing three huge bowls of popcorn and watching some cheesy horror movies. It was my sixteenth birthday, as stupid as that sounds. My parent-approved party was a sleepover. My non-parent approved party was a rager the next Saturday, at someone else’s house. I think I puked in a bush that night. That shit was wild. 

The last set of photos were taken barely a few years ago. They were all of me and my friends again, but this time, they were all taken at our “studio”, meaning the apartment that three of them all lived in. My mother had been pressuring to let her visit all of us, after we released our first couple singles. She wanted to see where the magic happened. 

Most of the photos were of me, showing her around. She took a lot of me sitting at our cheap synthesizer; I was smiling wide - the kind of smile that reached my eyes - and I looked so damn happy to be sitting in that terrible chair that had absolutely no lumbar support, creating what we thought were masterpieces in a two bedroom apartment that had cracks in every wall. I looked like there was no other I would rather be. 

I had so many dreams back then. I was so ambitious, it hurts to remember. I wanted us to all make it to the top of the billboard, and be famous around the world. I remember thinking that a tour overseas would be the best thing that could happen to us, and then it would mark us as having finally made it. 

How stupid I was. 

I spent too many years wishing that my life could be even better than my dreams. But I could never get on my feet to make it happen. 

We all fell apart. Our big debut never happened, and we had to make money, so we all took real jobs. None of us had the time or energy to create more music, so we just… gave up. We had to be realistic about our futures. We had to let go of our dreams. 

_ I  _ had to let go of  _ my  _ dreams. 

I quickly stuff the photos back into the box, and shut the lid tight. My mother’s handwriting stares back at me, spelling out my name in loopy print, mocking me and my hopeless dreams. Her handwriting is too pretty to label a box dictating every single failure of Jordon Kristopher Terrell. 

But I can’t dwell on the past. I just gotta let go. 


	2. Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, it ain't goodbye, it's a last caress.   
> At least, that's what it's supposed to be.

I was surprised when George actually answered my call. He and I hadn’t really talked in a few years; last I heard he was married, and had a daughter. I was glad to hear that he had moved on, and made something of his life, but it still hurt a little to know that he had so thoroughly discarded his past. 

Our past. 

George agreed to meet with me, at the park where we grew up. He remembered our secret spot, which wasn’t really that secret; it was just a bench underneath a huge oak tree. I’m sitting there now, waiting for him to arrive. 

It’s just rained; everything is still damp, including the bench, but I just wipe it off with my jacket. The park is empty, which is nice. No annoying children or anything to disturb the quiet. 

I hear George’s footsteps behind me - he always walks heavily - but I don’t acknowledge him until he sits down beside me, stretching his legs out and leaning back. 

“Hey,” He says; his voice is deeper than I remember, but I guess that happens when you don’t see each other for a few years. 

I turn to him, fighting myself to give him a smile. It feels foreign, and I’m sure it looks weird, but it’s the best smile I can manage. “Hi.” 

“It’s been a while.” 

“Yeah. I heard you got married?” 

“Yeah, I did. We eloped, so no ceremony. I wanted our witness to be Ava, but it had to be  my brother, for fu- for Pete’s sake.” 

I recognize the name of his daughter, who I guess must be seven or so, but his reluctance to say fuck makes me raise an eyebrow. “No swearing from George Ragan? Who are you?” 

He chuckles. “A father trying his best. It’s been hard, but Asia says I need to stop cursing.” 

“I don’t know how you do it, man.” 

“I don’t either.” 

We both fall silent; neither of us really know what to say now. I just study the grass in front of us, while George studies his shoes. I regret asking him to come out here now; he has better things to do than waste time with me.

“How have you been, Jordon?” George asks, scooting a little closer to me. He sounds like he genuinely wants to know. 

But I can’t tell him what a fucked up mess I am. So I say, “I’ve been alright.” 

“You’ve always been a terrible liar.” 

“Yeah, I guess I have.” I can’t make myself look at him now. The grass is much easier to look at. 

“How have you been?” He asks again, a bit more deliberately this time.

“Not great. My mom died.” 

George scoots even closer to me, enough that I can feel his body heat radiating from him. I always told him he was a space heater in human form. “I’m sorry to hear that, she was a good woman.” 

“She really was. She always believed in us. In me.” 

“Thinking about the past again, huh?” George always knew me better than I knew myself. Most of the time, I hated it. But not this time, I guess. 

I shrug, finally bringing myself to meet his gaze. His piercing fucking gaze. “I found some photos of us from back when you lived at the apartment with Aron and Jay. They dug up some memories, which I guess haven’t really left my mind.” 

“You can’t focus on the past, man.” 

“I know, but I don’t like focusing on the future either.” 

George let his arm wrap around my shoulders. I let myself relax into his side. It felt just like old times. “What’s wrong, Jordy?” 

I rested my head against his shoulder. “Everything, at least that what it feels like. Could you believe that only bad things have happened to me, while you were off living the dream?” 

“That can’t be true.” 

“It is, though. I’ve just made it all worse, in every fucking way.” I didn’t mean to sound so bitter.

“You haven’t made anything worse, you just got dealt a shi- bad hand.” 

“You know you can swear around me, I’m not gonna tell on you.” 

George chuckles, kind of bouncing me around with the way I was leaning against his side. “It’s not too late to turn your life around, you know.” 

I shake my head. “It is. I can’t fix my life, not if I’m a part of the problem.” 

“You’re not part of the problem. You could never be the problem.” 

“I can’t believe that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Something had to be the cause of all of everything falling apart. Of  _ us _ falling apart.” 

George sighs, and again, I regret asking him to come out here. “You weren’t the reason we broke up.” 

“I sure as shit didn’t help.” 

“Neither did I. The timing wasn’t right, nothing was right.” 

“And then you met Asia.” 

“Jordon-” 

“It’s fine, George. I’m truly happy for you.” I am, too. I could never wish anything negative upon him. 

“It’s not like I stopped loving you.”

“Just not in the way that I love you.” Fuck, I just said that. Why did I say that? Why do I have to ruin everything? 

“Jordon, please-” 

“It’s fine, George.” I stand up, recoiling slightly from the sudden cold. “I should’ve seen the writing on the wall a long time ago. We weren’t meant to be, I know that.”

He stands up too, and I’m struck with how damn tall he is. I look into his eyes, searching for the one thing I know isn’t there. 

“I don’t wanna disappear from your life again,” George says, and he sounds like he means it. 

“I don’t want that either.” I raise my arms, silently asking for a hug. 

George nods, and wraps his arms around me. I feel secure within his firm embrace, but I can’t enjoy it. 

“This isn’t goodbye,” He tells me. 

I know that’s a lie, but I don’t say anything. I just draw back enough to smile at him, and this time, it doesn’t feel so forced. “I’ll see you soon, George.” 

He bites his lip, as if debating whether or not to let me go, but in the end, he does. “I love you, Jordy.” 

“I love you too.” I pat his shoulder, then step away. I start walking away to my sad little apartment, regretting everything that just happened. 

I shouldn’t have called George, and I shouldn’t have invited him out here. I should’ve just let myself disappear fully from his life. I was all set to just go out the back door, and nobody would stop me. But I fucked that up, and for what? What could I have possibly gained from dragging George back into my life? 

All I did was give myself another reason of why I’m a fucking failure. Not that I really needed one more. I already had everything I needed to believe in my own downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the original idea of four HU songs, one from each album excluding Swan Songs, has been altered to just three chapters. Mainly because the third one was going to be called "Bullet" and I think we can all guess what that means and what would happen. I didn't feel like writing that, because no good could come out of an entire chapter dedicated to that song.   
> Long story short, just one more chapter left of this super sad story that no one asked for. Thanks for reading

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave a comment or a kudos, they go a long way!


End file.
